


On the Verge

by mending_fences



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, I Managed to get Brent Sopel in my Story, Jonny Drinks $800 a bottle Scotch, Jonny has a Dirty Mouth, M/M, Patrick is a Brat, Porn Without Plot, Pouting, Recreational Pot Smoking, Red Knees, Shower Sex, Sleepovers, Soapy Patrick and Jonny, Someday I'll Write an Actual Story, Wet Hungry Kisses, Wet hair, first time rimming, lusting, today is not that day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mending_fences/pseuds/mending_fences
Summary: “Good, huh?” Jonny is smirking like the fuck stick he is and takes the joint from Pat and hits it long and hard before stubbing it out in the ashtray. He holds it in for a ridiculously long time and Pat is instantly mesmerized once again, this time by the slim streams of smoke trickling from Jonny’s nostrils. It makes him look a little dangerous and Pat kind of wants to climb up in his lap and eat his face.Total silence stretches on for one minute, two minutes, maybe even three. Jonny pours himself another drink and gives Pata look(Jonny can read Pat like a book).“I feel kinda gross from earlier. Think I’m gonna take a shower.” Jonny runs his fingers through his hair, polishes off his drink in two swallows and then unbuttons the rest of his shirt.Pat isso bustedlicking his lips and blatantly staring at Jonny’s chest. Jonny doesn’t call him on it though, just smirks even harder as he heads toward the shower in his bedroom.“You coming or what, asshole?” Jonny tosses over his shoulder, grinning, as he continues to undress.





	On the Verge

**Author's Note:**

> This plotless piece of fluff takes place in Chicago the night of 5-3-09, 2 nights prior to their first home game and just after beating the Canucks in Game 2 of the Conference Semi-finals in Vancouver. Some of the guys took Jonny out to Spybar to celebrate his 21st birthday (a few days late), but Pat wasn’t old enough to get in.
> 
> Warning for brief smoking of pot by the boys.
> 
> Spybar is an actual club 2 miles from the United Center.
> 
> No beta. Sorry in advance. I'll correct mistakes as I find them. And please help by pointing them out.
> 
> Almost forgot--title is from a really old song by Collin Raye.

~ ~ ~ 

Pat wonders if maybe he hadn’t been standing around outside Spybar for damn near two hours tonight, flip flopping between arguing and flirting outrageously with the bouncer to try and get him to let him in (he didn’t)… if maybe he hadn’t been bitching to himself about fucking asshole dickwad friends who don’t consider the legal age of others (Pat) when planning celebrations of teammates’ 21st birthdays (Jonny’s)…if maybe he wasn’t so tired and hungry and royally pissed and not wanting to admit defeat and go home alone, but definitely not in the mood to pick up (especially after hanging around outside the club for as long as he did like a pathetic loser)…

Pat also wonders if maybe the planets, or in this case Jonny, Sharpy, Bur, Buff, Soupy, Duncs, Seabs, Sopes and Steeger, hadn’t aligned _exactly_ the way they did, _when_ they did, then _maybe_ he wouldn’t be sitting next to Jonny in the back seat of a cab, speeding off to his apartment.

“Why couldn’t we do this on your actual birthday in Vancouver where I’m fucking legal? You guys are all a bunch of dicks. _Limp_ dicks. With _sores_.” Pat’s absolutely not whining.

“Uh, because it was the night before game 1 of the Conference Semis and I’d rather Coach’s foot wasn’t permanently lodged in my ass. Duh. What the fuck, loser.”

Pat just gives him the stink eye.

“Come on, Pat, you have to know this wasn’t my idea and I only stayed for two hours _tops_ ,” Jonny says, bumping his knee against Pat’s. “How long have you standing out in the cold, dumbass? Your nose is all red and your lips are sorta blue.”

“Two hours _tops_.” Pat sniffs obnoxiously and glares out the window.

“Let’s just go back to my place and we’ll have a couple of drinks and hang out for a while. We have afternoon tapes and a late practice tomorrow, so we can sleep in. Why not eh. Did you really think I wouldn’t want you around tonight, that I’m that big of an asshole? Seriously, Pat, I’m sorry you got screwed over like that.”

On one hand Pat is still pretty pissed, but on the other, well, he’s exactly where he wanted to be in the first place, so screw Spybar and his fucking asshole dickwad friends (not Jonny, though). He’s the one going home with Jonny. So yeah.

“Fine, _Jonathan,_ but don’t expect any presents from me and you still all suck. Especially you (bald-faced lie). And I might want to watch some CatDog later (Pat is lame). Just saying.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking lame. _Maybe_ I’ll put on some Rocko if you behave yourself.” (Jonny’s also lame)

***

Pat follows Jonny through the lobby and up to his apartment and makes himself at home on the couch while Jonny putters around the kitchen.

“Hungry, Peeks? I can heat something up if you want.”

“Nah. You know it’s after midnight, right? I’m good.”

Jonny comes back holding a pear and Pat is instantly mesmerized by the way his mouth opens against the curve of the fruit, the crisp sound of his teeth biting through the flesh, his tongue smoothing over the beads of juice gathered on his lips.

Pat watches as Jonny moves around, setting a decanter on the coffee table, followed by two snifters, before settling into the chair across from him. He leans his head back into the soft leather and swings his feet up next to the decanter. One hand is unbuttoning the top half of his shirt and the other is still holding the pear and it’s the sexiest thing Pat has ever seen, but then this is Jonny and everything he does is sexy (Pat thinks so anyway), even the dorky stuff. Pat can’t help but wonder if Jonny notices him actually squirming on the couch, hard as fuck just from watching him eat a pear. He thinks maybe he should be embarrassed (he’s really not).

Jonny sets down the core and pours each of them a half snifter and slides one towards Pat, silently saluting him, which means he actually broke out his coveted Royal Salute 38 Year Old Stone of Destiny (Pat’s impressed). By the time Pat takes his first sip, Jonny’s reaching for the decanter again and bitching about some _douchebag asshole motherfucker_ from the club earlier. Pat’s still staring at Jonny, only half listening as he sips at the $800-a-bottle blended scotch and for the life of him he just can’t find the _fruit, nuts and butterscotch that give way to chocolate and malt_ or the _satisfying finish of spice_ no matter how hard he tries _._ He’ll take a frosty cold beer with a nice thick head any day, but he continues to sip away, content to just enjoy the view while Jonny quietly rants.

Two drinks in and Jonny sits up to concentrate on rolling a nice, tight joint. Pat’s not even sure where the pot came from. It’s like magic—one minute they are sipping scotch and the next Jonny’s taking a slow, deep drag.    

"So..." Jonny looks up at Pat and smiles a crooked little smile, letting smoke seep slowly from between his lips.

Pat downs the rest of his drink and his throat seizes up a little from the burn. Precisely why he prefers beer…

“You’ve said exactly ten words since we got here (nine, but who’s counting). What’re you thinking about over there? You’re not still pissed at me are you?”

Jonny reaches across the table and Pat grabs the joint and takes a hit. He’s kind of a lightweight and this is some good shit, so he’s feeling a little dizzy and giddy straight off and it shows all over his face. Jonny steps over the coffee table and lets himself fall back on the couch right up against Pat. He closes his fingers over Pat’s and hits the joint a couple times, exhaling very slowly.

“Gonna tell me or what?” His mouth is practically flush to Pat’s ear when he speaks.

All Pat does is smile and hit the joint again himself.

“Well?” Jonny is a persistent fuck.

“Not pissed, not thinking, just chillin. It’s all good, Jonny.” Pat’s trying to talk while holding in the smoke and just ends up coughing it all out (again, Pat is lame).

“Good, huh?” Jonny is smirking like the fuck stick he is and takes the joint from Pat and hits it long and hard before stubbing it out in the ashtray. He holds it in for a ridiculously long time and Pat is instantly mesmerized once again, this time by the slim streams of smoke trickling from Jonny’s nostrils. It makes him look a little dangerous and Pat kind of wants to climb up in his lap and eat his face.

Total silence stretches on for one minute, two minutes, maybe even three. Jonny pours himself another drink and gives Pat _a_ _look_ (Jonny can read Pat like a book).

“I feel kinda gross from earlier. Think I’m gonna take a shower.” Jonny runs his fingers through his hair, polishes off his drink in two swallows and then unbuttons the rest of his shirt.

Pat is _so busted_ licking his lips and blatantly staring at Jonny’s chest. Jonny doesn’t call him on it though, just smirks even harder as he heads toward the shower in his bedroom.

“You coming or what, asshole?” Jonny tosses over his shoulder, grinning, as he continues to undress.

Pat jumps up to follow (Pat would follow him anywhere) and strips right down to nothing before they even get to the bathroom. It’s kind of sweet how their shirts and jeans and socks and boxers are all mixed together in little piles along the way.

Jonny likes his showers hot and Pat isn’t sure what’s hotter, the water or Jonny’s hands trailing down his back and over his ass, languidly soaping his skin and coasting up and down his spine. He can’t help the noise he makes when Jonny pulls him into a kiss under the steaming spray. Many minutes pass with the two of them sharing a long, lingering kiss, Jonny’s tongue deep in Pat’s mouth, hands sliding over wet, heated skin, water splashing on their faces. They pull apart just enough for Jonny to press the soap into Pat’s hand and turn around.

“Wash my back, Peeks?” Jonny’s voice is deep and hushed and he just lets the water beat down on him while he waits for Pat to touch him.

Pat’s a little buzzed and a little overwhelmed, but manages to run the soap along each ridge and curve of Jonny’s back. He’s completely captivated by the soapy rivulets sliding down over the planes of hard muscle and the contours of Jonny’s spectacular ass. He’s absolutely perfect and Pat wants him, _needs him_ , and all he can think about is getting his mouth on all that skin so that’s exactly what he does. He leans in and presses his lips to that soft, smooth spot between Jonny’s shoulder blades and lets the soap slip from his fingers. He uses the tip of his tongue to trace the little peaks and valleys of his spine while his fingers follow the streams of water down, down, down, and before he can overthink it, Pat drops to his knees onto the hard tile and doesn’t even feel it at all.

He’s hard and hungry and knows what he _wants_ _so much_ and keeps his mouth pressed to Jonny. Pat’s never done this before. He’s had it done to him and knows how fucking incredible it made him feel and he wants to give that back to Jonny right here in the shower.

Jonny isn’t moving, isn’t making a sound. It’s almost like he’s holding his breath even as Pat slides his palms over his plump cheeks and between his crack to skim over the baby fine hair there. He pulls him apart just enough to bare his hole, just enough to finally see his tight little pucker and Pat hums out an eager rush of breath. It’s barely noticeable when Jonny shifts his weight, but Pat is hyperaware of him spreading his legs, giving him better access to his ass and letting him know how much he wants this, too. Pat’s just a tiny bit in awe and takes a second to look up at Jonny. He’s palms down against the wall, head on his hands, eyes closed and lips parted in anticipation. He looks so fucking beautiful and it blows Pat away that he’s like this for _him_ , that he’s _waiting_ for him. He has to close his own eyes and count to ten (possibly twenty) just to keep himself from sobbing like a little girl.

Pat manages to pull himself together and moves closer until the corners of his mouth are brushing against Jonny’s cheeks and he presses his lips softly, almost hesitantly, against his hole. Jonny’s so warm and Pat isn’t sure what he’s supposed to actually do. He knows he wants to kiss him there, right where Jonny’s the most vulnerable, knows he wants to rub his lips all over his incredible heat and softness. And because Jonny _always_ knows what Pat is thinking, he begins clenching just the tiniest bit against his lips, just enough encouragement for Pat to open his mouth, slide his tongue out and lick Jonny flush against his hole.

Pat’s a little terrified, he isn’t going to lie. This is so totally different than sucking dick and he didn’t even know that people actually did this sort of thing until Jonny did it to him. And kept doing it. And it felt so _fucking good_. He loved it…loves it…loves how open and exposed and _wanted_ it makes him feel because _Christ_ , you really have to want someone to do this to them and more than anything, he needs Jonny to feel all those things, to know that Pat wants him just the same, _so fucking much_.

Maybe Pat wants to know what Jonny tastes like, too, so he licks him again and it’s earthy and tangy all mixed together, unbearably erotic and sensual. Pat is instantly addicted. He does it again and again and then drags his tongue firmly from behind Jonny’s balls back to his quivering little hole. One hand comes down on Pat’s head to hold him right there and the more Pat licks, the tighter the grip in his hair.

Jonny’s squeezing himself tight as Pat laps up splashes of water and tries to press them inside. He’s kneading Jonny’s ass while his thumbs spread him open a little wider, wide enough that Pat can kiss his asshole like it was his mouth. He can’t believe he’s doing this, can’t believe he’s never done it before and hasn’t been doing it all along. He loves the taste, the feel of the tight skin against his lips. He stiffens his tongue and Jonny finally opens under him and takes him inside. It’s slick and smooth and soft and so fucking hot and Pat just wants more and more and more. His heart is hammering and his breath is catching deep in his throat and it’s all he can do not to come like this, on his knees with his tongue in Jonny’s ass. He doesn’t dare touch himself.

He seals his lips over Jonny’s hole and sucks a little harder, pushes his tongue in a little further until the soft wet hairs along his crack are tickling Pat’s face. Suck, push, suck, push. Jonny starts to moan and Pat tongues him harder, twisting and licking inside him until he feels Jonny’s hips rocking back and forth. Pat knows he’s stroking himself and reaches around with one hand just to be able to touch, maybe help him out, but he can’t. The angle is too awkward. So Jonny covers Pat’s hand with his own and wraps it around his cock, squeezing them together and pumping. Pat grips Jonny’s hip with his other hand to steady himself and alternates between flicking his tongue over Jonny’s hole and licking inside of him. Pat knows he’s close.

Jonny makes a wet, strangled sound and pushes back hard into Pat’s face and comes. His dick is pulsing in their grip and his ass is throbbing slowly, rhythmically, against Pat’s mouth. Pat tightens his fingers on Jonny’s hip and flattens his tongue over his hole. He softly laps at him until he stops trembling. Pat’s shaking and way beyond hard when Jonny turns and pulls him to his feet. His legs are kind of numb and his ankles sore and tingly and he could give a flying fuck because Jonny wraps a hand around his neck and kisses him so hard, relentlessly tongue fucking his mouth and reaching down for his cock. Four or five pulls and Pat practically whites out as he comes in Jonny's hand. It feels so good, is such a fucking _relief_ , that Pat has to once again count to ten (definitely twenty) to keep from sobbing. He lets himself collapse against Jonny’s chest, lets him take his weight until the shaking and panting subside.

"You okay?" Jonny’s voice is low and thready against Pat’s wet hair. He moves them under the still hot spray of the shower and lets his fingers sooth along Pat’s back.

“Shit, Jonny, that was…so fucking much…just…Happy belated.” Pat is so glad to get those few words out. He wants his tongue back inside Jonny and just thinking about it makes his stomach jump and he’s still so turned on, so hot for it, for Jonny.

“Yeah, it really was. And I thought you said no presents.” Jonny laughs soft and open and rinses the rest of Pat’s come off his hand.

Jonny turns off the water and wraps each of them in a thick, heated towel. Pat’s still a little shaky and the red marks on his knees are dark and angry looking. He still doesn’t care.

“Come on, Peeks, stay with me tonight. Wanna fuck you so slow and fall asleep inside you.” Pat tries to nod while Jonny kisses him wet and deep.

When Jonny finally lifts his head, Pat doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think he can. Instead, he takes his hand and follows him to bed.


End file.
